Forever Evil
by Xenitha
Summary: Nightwing is taken captive and exposed as Richard Grayson by the evil crime syndicate from a duplicate universe. Owlman, Thomas Wayne, approaches him, asking for a partnership like that of his own, now-dead Talon. Thinking that Batman and the JLA are dead, Dick accepts reluctantly. My own AU, my own take on New-52's Forever Evil. T for now, could go to M for violence.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: Since they're taking forever to deal with Dick Grayson in Forever Evil, and we may not even like the result, I'm doing my own version. This is strictly my own AU, but based on my own canon version of the New-52. Lets me be even eviller if I want to :)

FOREVER EVIL, CHAPTER 1

Dick sat upright in the hard chair they'd chained him to. His ribs hurt from where Superwoman had punched them, but the rest of his body felt worse. Ultraman enjoyed working over his prisoners. Rumor said that Dick was the image of Owlman's lost partner, his own Richard Grayson, Talon.

Listening to the barely restrained arguments between Owlman and Ultraman made it clear that there was no love lost between the two. In fact, there seemed to be a thinly disguised rivalry. Maybe something that could be exploited. He sighed and let himself sink back into a drowse to preserve his energy. He hadn't been fed since they captured him, or given water. Thirst would kill him faster, but he be damned if he'd beg. He had to get out of here.

He woke to the familiar feel of a heavy hand on his shoulder. Bruce? He raised his head and the reality of it all came back like a ton of bricks.

"Don't worry, Richard. I'm here for you," a resonant baritone voice said. "You must be thirsty."

Almost Bruce...almost...Dick glared him in the eye, but his own voice trembled. "Who the hell are you?"

"You should drink," Owlman said, holding a cup of water in one hand. He was Bruce's height and wore a cape and cowl, but it was different.

"I want to know who I'm talking to," Dick insisted, licking his lips, seeing his own reflection in Owlman's eyepieces, the stripe on the Nightwing uniform looking blue. Dick's eyes narrowed.

In a very familiar gesture, Owlman pulled back his cowl. A tall man with Bruce's eyes smiled warmly at him. "My name is Thomas Wayne, Junior," he said, emotion on his face. Love? " In another world, you called me the brother you never had. And you were the brother I always hoped for, " Wayne said.

Dick blinked. This was clearly not Bruce. Bruce couldn't begin to express himself this well. This guy thinks I'm his _brother_? "You're out of your mind!" Dick gritted.

"Many have thought that of me before. When I first came to this earth, I thought I was mad myself. I know you're not the same Richard Grayson I knew. That Richard Grayson is dead, along with most of the world I came from. It was nearly incinerated. Gotham is all but gone. But this is my chance to do it right." He reached behind and unlocked the chains that bound Nightwing to the chair. "And for that...I need your help, Richard."

Owlman stepped away from Dick, turning his back on him. "I don't want what the rest of the syndicate wants. I want something different."

The unfastened chain clanged against the floor. Owlman had only unlocked one cuff. The other still hung from his wrist, along with the length of chain. Nightwing was on his feet. Owlman spun as Dick charged him. "And I want out of here!"

"Why?" Owlman countered Nightwing's strike. "After removing your mask in front of the world, everyone knows your real name, Richard! The Society has already leveled your apartment building in Chicago. You friends have been hunted!" Owlman pulled Nightwing's arm into an arm lock. "Batman is dead," he whispered into his right ear. "The world you knew, both personally and globally is forever gone. Like me, Richard, you need to start over. I'm offering you that chance!"

Dick struggled out of the embrace. "To destroy the world, alongside you?" he spat and swung the chain at his opponent. "No thanks!" He pulled it into a chokehold across Owlman's throat.

"I don't want your help destroying your world, Richard," Owlman grunted. "I need your help saving it from the crime syndicate." Owlman sprang to his feet and flipped Dick over his shoulder. "Your world is a mess! Your Justice League should have cleaned it up and taken control long ago. Ultraman is right about _that _at least." Dick landed at Owlman's feet. "But he's wrong about everything else," Owlman panted. "His goal is nothing less than to enslave your earth and amass its power for himself, driven by his paranoia and fear." Owlman grabbed the back of Nightwing's neck and threw him against the wall. "But on this world, his supply of kryptonite is limited. Ultraman is vulnerable for the very first time." His fingers closed around Dick's throat, face thrust close to his. "This world is either taken over by him or it's taken over by me."

Owlman moved his forearm against Dick's throat. "These are your only options, Richard. Will you help me stop the crime syndicate?"

Dick looked into Thomas Wayne's eyes, so like Bruce's and knew that his options were limited. He had to use what he had. "Yes."

Thomas backed away. "Until we're ready, I have to chain you back up."

"No!" Dick protested.

Thomas shook his head. "You're in no shape to fight me any further, Richard. And if the Syndicate finds you free, they'll kill you."

Dick reluctantly sank back into the chair. Owlman was right. He wasn't in any shape to defy him. He had to wait, to hope that there would be a chance to get away. The expression on Owlman's face puzzled him, an expression that he'd longed for from Bruce for years. Acceptance and...affection. Dick pulled himself up short. Wait a minute. THIS man was a criminal and a murderer, part of a vicious criminal syndicate. He wasn't a friend and he wasn't family, no matter who he looked and sounded like.

Owlman gave him a friendly smile and retrieved the water glass. With care, he held it to Dick's lips and gave him a long drink. As far as he could tell, there were no chemicals in it. He watched Owlman leave the room and began to meditate on his options. It went without saying that he would use every trick he'd ever been taught to bring down the crime syndicate. He'd also been given valuable intel that he had to get to whatever resistance had formed. Some of the League must have survived. Or if not the League, his lip twisted, he could try Ra's al Ghul or maybe even Lex Luthor hadn't sold out yet.

"I've told him that you aren't his Richard Grayson, but he won't believe me," a familiar British voice said crisply. Dick startled and saw a pale-faced, elderly man in a suit and bowler hat.

"Alfred?" he said wonderingly, then realized that this couldn't be his Alfred. This Alfred Pennyworth had the pasty white skin and red lips of someone exposed to Joker poison.

'Alfred' saw Dick's changes of expression and smiled. "Just so. I am Alfred Pennyworth, Owlman's second in command and trusted servant. He asked me to check on you, see if you required food."

Eyes wide, Dick just examined the man and slowly shook his head at the uncanny resemblance. "Unless you make the same chocolate chip cookies that my Alfred does, I think I'm fine for now..."

'Alfred' snorted. "As a matter of fact, I imagine that I do. Young Master Richard enjoyed my baking before he was...uh...taken from us...so abruptly."

"What happened to your Dick Grayson?" Dick asked, suddenly curious.

'Alfred' frowned. "Thomas made a tactical error and told the boy more truth than he could accept. Richard left us and was murdered by the Joker." 'Alfred's' eyes gleamed. "He was left dismembered, decapitated and...ahem...gift-wrapped for Thomas to find."

"I see," Dick said. "So, your Joker is just as wacko as ours is."

"Perhaps. And the correct tense is 'was'. Thomas disposed of the Joker shortly after Talon was killed." The butler approached Dick, eyeing him closely. "Talon was a weak spot in Thomas' armor. It's just as well he was disposed of before I had to take action."

Dick refused to be cowed, even though this duplicate Alfred gave him the shivers. "What was it that drove Talon away?" he asked.

The old man shrugged. "Merely that Thomas had murdered the Graysons. He'd been contemplating adding a partner and the Grayson boy was both intelligent and talented. The Graysons were petty extortionists themselves, but their payoffs to our gang had been dropping off. Action was needed. Thomas decided to become the boy's mentor and guardian as a way to cultivate an emotional bond." 'Alfred' shook his head. "Thomas shouldn't have allowed himself to become so captivated with the child, regarding him as the sibling his own brother couldn't be. We had lied to Richard all of his life until Thomas decided to" Alfred sniffed. "Come clean and tell him the truth. Master Richard stormed out of the manor and into the Joker's hands."

"Bruce Wayne." Dick asked. "What happened to him?" Maybe an ally if he was still alive...

"Bruce Wayne and his parents were all killed that night in Crime Alley. I made sure of that," Alfred said. "Thomas and I planned it that way. And Thomas knows why they had to go. Do you wonder why I am telling you all this?" He bent over Nightwing, voice a low hiss. "I am Thomas' ally and have dedicated my life to his cause. I will not tolerate anyone or anything that puts him in danger, do you understand? If you betray his trust, I will know and I will kill you." He smiled, teeth yellow against the too-bright lips and too-white skin. "And your death will be longer and more painful than Talon's was." With that, the old man stalked away into the darkness, leaving Nightwing alone.


	2. Endings

CHAPTER 2

Author's Note: The story at this point is mostly a novelization of Justice League #23.4 and #25, written by Geoff Johns with a few of my own touches. By the way, the Lorcin L380 is reputed to be hard to field strip, unreliable and is called a "throwaway gun". 

* * *

"Your breakfast, sir," the butler set a china plate on the table before his master and refilled his coffee cup. It didn't do to let standards lapse, even if they were lodged in substandard housing.

Thomas Wayne picked up a slice of toast and began to butter it. "I suppose I should start calling him by his preferred name...Have you seen to Dick's meal yet?" he asked.

"When you are finished, I will attend to him," the old man said. "I wish that you would reconsider, sir. As I have said before, this young man is not the Richard Grayson you knew. You cannot trust him."

"I have made my decision, Alfred," Thomas said, still eating his toast. "I intend to have family again. I won't make the same mistakes with Dick as I did with Richard."

"Ahhh, you do not intend to share all of your thoughts with him, then," Alfred said with satisfaction. "I was concerned. I should hate to be forced to dispose of someone who looks so much like Talon."

"I intend to give Dick as much trust as Talon had," Thomas said sharply. "But it will take some time to...accustom him...to the way we do business. His mentor is dead. He has no choice." He finished his toast.

"Sir, he may prove as recalcitrant as your younger brother did and betray you," the butler said, pouring more coffee.

Thomas' eyes grew misty and his face paled. "Mother and Father had to die, you know that and I thought that Bruce did, too. My father was a weak man. He was spending the entire Wayne fortune on malpractice claims and Mother...My mother was an overbearing sadist." Thomas shuddered. "And she entertained more men than an alley cat. I had thought that Bruce understood that." _My servant Alfred was the only one I could control. Together, we murdered my family. _He remembered the night that his parents had died. They'd been to the movies, to see the new Zorro movie... 

"I want pizza," his little brother, Bruce, had whined.

"You already ate a hot dog and nachos at the movie, Bruce," Martha Wayne's voice was high-pitched with a note that matched Bruce's.

"But I _want_ pizza, Daddy. I want it nowwwwww!" Bruce strode into the alley. All was going according to plan.

Martha tsk'd. "Just buy the boys what they want, Thomas. Their screeching hurts my ears so." She pulled a compact from her purse and began studying her face.

"But we're on a budget, dear," her husband said helplessly. "I need to save every dollar I can to keep the lawyers fed."

She eyed him with disdain. "Just because you can't stop 'slipping' when you put someone under the knife? Those accidents are adding up, Thomas! And it's hard to deny the pattern as anything but your surgical fetish, you idiot."

While Thomas looked back at where his parents had stopped, he nudged Bruce. His brother nodded and played his part. "Mommy, I want a gun like Zorro's. Make Daddy buy me a Lorcin L 380! Bang! Bang! Ban!"

Suddenly, Martha stilled, glancing over her shoulder. "Wait, Thomas," she said.

"What is it, dear?" Thomas looked around nervously.

"I thought I heard someone in the alley," she said.

"Oh, Mother, that's only me," Thomas said. As his parents turned towards him, they saw that he was holding them at gunpoint, his other hand resting on the shoulder of his brother Bruce, next to him. "Put your hands up."

"What are you doing, Junior?" she demanded. "You put that gun away. You do it right now!"

"No," Thomas said calmly, unaware that Bruce was beginning to shake.

"You listen to me!" she said sharply.

"Bruce and I are never going to listen to either of you again. Because Dad's going to let you throw away our money and leave me and Bruce with nothing...unless we do something about it," Thomas said.

"Tommy!" Bruce's thin voice cut him off. "I..I can't."

"What?" Thomas glared at his little brother.

"I've changed my mind. I don't want to hurt Mom and Dad," Bruce's eyes were big and blue, looking up into his.

"We made a plan, Bruce. A deal. Don't you back out now!" Thomas hissed.

"Stop playing around and get back to the Bentley you brats!" Martha said.

"I'm not playing, Mother," Thomas said coldly and raised the gun.

"No, Tommy!" Bruce shouted and threw himself on his brother. While the two struggled on the ground, Martha pushed in to separate them.

"You stop this foolishness! Eight lashings for each of you!" she squealed. Suddenly, she fell in a spray of blood and an explosive sound. Thomas Wayne Sr. went down next.

While the individual pearls from Martha's necklace spattered over the ground, a familiar voice said, "Bruce? You should've listened to your brother." A third shot rang out and Bruce Wayne fell. Thomas jumped at the report while Alfred Pennyworth, holding a smoking pistol, stepped from the shadows. "It's done, Master Thomas."

Overhead a flock of birds had taken off for the darkened sky, leaving one confused bird perched overhead. "Whooo-whoo! Who are you?" it seemed to be calling to Thomas._ A bird spoke to me that night,_ he reflected later. _Bewildered and confused. Like Bruce as he lay there dying._

"Tom...Tommy?" Bruce whimpered, holding out his hand to his brother.

"Who am I?" Tommy said. "I'm Thomas Wayne, Junior. The richest boy in Gotham City." With Alfred at his back, he carefully aimed his pistol down at his traitorous brother and put the last bullet into him. The loud explosion finally drove the owl flapping into the sky. 

* * *

"Penny for your thoughts, sir." A voice broke his reverie. He looked up with a smile.

"Ah, Alfred, I'm sorry. I was remembering," Thomas said.

"Your family?" Alfred said.

"Alfred, sometimes I've had to burn it all and start again. We've been marooned on a world that isn't ours. Things are different here, but there are some things that might be better than what we left behind." He looked up at his oldest ally. "I'm building a new family here. That's what this backwards world is going to give me. A new beginning." _And don't you dare try to stop me._

The old man met his eyes and kept them there, before falling. "As you wish, sir." 

* * *

Dick sat dozing in the chair. One of the syndicate members, Johnny Quick, had let him use the bathroom, stolidly watching him while he did his business. His stomach had started growling and he was beginning to regret the offer of food last night from that pod-person version of Alfred last night. This Alfred gave him the creeps, he was so familiar and yet so very different. Alfred. Was his Alfred even alive anymore? Was Bruce? Or Babs? Tim or Jason? Clark? Anyone? For all he knew, he was the last hero left alive. His head bowed and he closed his eyes, trying to absorb the probable truth of his situation.

Bruce had always insisted that he consider every possibility and plan for the worst. Well, this was probably the worst. He could mourn later, after he had cleaned up this mess.

He was startled by a throat being cleared just off his left shoulder. His eyes flew open to find Alfred, their Alfred standing and holding a tray.

"Your breakfast, sir," he said and raised the lid. Dick's eyes opened even wider. There sat a large bowl of Crocky Crunch in whole milk with two tablespoons of sugar liberally scattered on the top. A cloth napkin was neatly folded with a spoon on top of it. A china cup and saucer held jasmine tea, lemon, no sugar. The old man caught Dick's surprise and smiled a bit. "This was Master Richard's standard breakfast. I trust that it meets with your approval?"

Dumbly, Dick nodded and watched as Alfred set the tray onto a small table and set it in front of him. "I will unlock your cuffs, sir. I assume that you will make no attempts at escape since you have allied yourself with Master Thomas." Alfred produced a key, but before he bent over to release the chains, he met Dick's eye. "If you should attempt any action against me by way of escape, be assured that I will certainly break your neck, thus leaving Master Thomas free of any potential serpent in his breast. Is that understood?"

Dick nodded and gritted out a "Yeah." He'd always known that his Alfred was a tough man, but he'd rarely shown that side to him. This Alfred...did not pretend to any affection or softness for Talon's twin.

He felt his hands released and carefully picked up the spoon, beginning to eat. He felt the butler's glittering eyes following his every move. "How much longer am I going to just sitting around?" Dick asked casually.

"As long as necessary," 'Alfred' said. "You should know that the only reason you are alive is because Thomas forced the issue with Ultraman. He is the only thing standing between you and death."

"I see," Dick said. "Nice tea. Just the way I like it, thank you." He dabbed at his lips with the napkin, just as his Alfred had taught him all those years ago. "I...uh...don't suppose you've heard about whether any other heroes have survived?"

"No," the butler said shortly. "You have no allies. You are entirely alone." Seeing that his charge had finished his tea and the cereal, 'Alfred' stepped behind Dick's chair. "Hands," he said, grabbing and pulling them back by the wrists when Dick moved too slowly. He chained them together, then scooted the table out of Dick's reach and retrieved the tray.

"I do have an ally," Dick said softly. "Thomas Wayne is my ally. Don't forget that, Alfred." 

* * *

Relieved of his duties to Thomas and his new Talon, Alfred returned to Owlman's quarters. They had formerly been assigned to Batman, so Alfred had considered it a kind of poetic justice to claim it for a different scion of the Wayne family. The decoration was spartan but the suite was comfortable enough. He assumed that the other Pennyworth cooked for his own Wayne, since the tiny kitchenette was organized with a military efficiency of which Alfred approved. He quickly cleaned the breakfast dishes and sat down to his own meal. Thomas was out on his own errands.

This world was a puzzlement. Weakness was held in esteem and the downtrodden were not as exploited as they had been on their own earth. Here, there was an expectation that the strongest would protect the weak, or at least the former Justice League had claimed that for their mission. Ridiculous. Still, Thomas' remarks that morning troubled Alfred. He could almost think that his master was getting soft. He certainly hadn't been the same since Talon died.

He'd told this world's Dick Grayson the ugly truth of Talon's ending, but not all of it. This lad was an unknown quantity; it wouldn't do to reveal too many potentially damaging secrets.

Alfred poured himself his own cup of tea. It was the only luxury he permitted himself. Helping Thomas run all the gangs in Gotham City had taken most of his time. Since Thomas and the rest had escaped to this Earth, there hadn't been much time for retrospection. The butler took a sip, remembering. 

"Can you hear me, Thomas?" Alfred had called over the radio to Owlman.

"Where's Talon?" Owlman responded.

"He isn't answering his comm-link. You should never have told him about his parents, sir. Or told him the truth about Barbara and the rest. You should've done what we always do. Lie!" Alfred knew that he sounded cross, but Thomas had completely ignored his wise advice.

"Just let me know when you find him," Owlman said. "Owlman out." Owlman began moving towards a cluster of police helicopters. Police radio reported that the Joker had been spotted. Owlman heard shots fired and swung from building to building at his top speed.

"We've lost visual on the Joker, sir," Alfred radioed him.

Owlman landed among a display of lit Christmas trees, decorating a small park in front of one of the buildings. This was the moment, the very moment that Owlman's world began to crumble...and in turn, Earth's.

"You could have told Richard another story about the death of his parents," Alfred said into the silence.

"He was going to find out, Alfred," Owlman said. "I thought it'd be better from me. Dick will understand. He'll..." Owlman's voice cut off.

Thomas found the body, what was left of it: six beautifully wrapped boxes in foil Christmas wrap with bows on them, for heaven's sake. The Joker had been perched up above, waiting gleefully for Owlman to find his 'gift'.

"Aren't you going to open them up?" the Joker giggled. "I wrapped them myself!"

Alfred heard the Joker's voice as well as Thomas' silence. "Thomas? What is it?"

"Talon." Thomas' voice was deeper than usual. Then he shouted, voice enraged. "I'm going to kill you for this, Joker!"

"Oh, I've heard that before!" Joker shouted back, sounding closer. I peered around the cover I'd taken. Thomas was hunched over the boxes, running a hand down the wrapping paper. Idiot!

Joker advanced on him from behind. "From your former partner in crime. Pick a card, Owlman. Any card."

Seeing that Thomas wasn't going to defend himself, Alfred raised his own shotgun and blasted Joker in the chest. " Always preferred chess, myself," Alfred said. "Those boxes? Is Talon...?"

"Yes," Thomas said, trying to gather the boxes into his arms.

"He went after the Joker because of what you said," The butler prompted. "Where **were** you?"

Thomas wouldn't look up, he just kept stacking the boxes, now dripping at the corners as he tied them together into a bundle.

"You were with her again, weren't you?" Thomas has been seeing a woman claimed by Ultraman. If Ultraman found out, everything would be over. And because Thomas wasn't...available...Talon had been out there alone, foolish boy.

"Dick got himself caught," Thomas said, barely audible. "This is _his_ fault."

"Like what happened to me is my fault, Mr. Wayne? I didn't drop myself into the toxic waters of Gotham Bay." The voice came from Joker, lying at Alfred's feet. Not yet dead. They heard a hissing sound and a greenish spray propelled from the clown's boutonniere. It coated Alfred's face and he began to cry out.

"Oh, quite screaming. You deserve worse for what you've helped him do, Pennyworth," the Joker grumbled, shambling to his feet.

"Alfred!" Thomas cried and grabbed his friend's shoulders. "Alfred?"

The Joker's poison began to take effect, bringing uncontrollable laughter. "Hn...Hn...Ha..." Alfred struggled to control himself. "Heh...heh...hee...ha! Ha! Ha!" The Joker laughed along, then he stopped laughing...Alfred didn't. He couldn't, ever again.

While the butler laughed helplessly, Owlman dealt with the Joker, dropping him off the side of a building. Owlman returned swiftly and gave his friend the anti-venin and waited with me him while it took effect.

"I still need your assistance. With Talon Gone, I don't trust anyone on this planet more than you," he said.

"Ha! Haaa...haaaa..heh...heh..Yu...You shouldn't trust anyone. Ha," Alfred choked out.

Owlman took him back to Arkham Manor and sat with him while he recovered. Or at least as much as he could ever recover. Two days later, Ultraman summoned Owlman to Ultrapolis. The planet was being attacked by something...something new. The heroes of the Crime Syndicate gathered to try to save their dominions.


	3. Johnny and Rhonda

CHAPTER 3

Dick watched as 'Alfred' left for the back of the building. Returning to quarters, he assumed. He sighed and tried to work his wrists out of the cuffs yet again. What had happened to the real Alfred? He hoped that his surrogate grandfather was still alive. It was a shame to call the Jokerized Alfred by his 'grandfather's' name. Pennyworth. Mr. Pennyworth. That would work. It was superficially polite, so neither Thomas nor the butler could object to that. He'd reserve the name 'Alfred' for the real man.

He heard footsteps nearby and saw a slender young woman in a leotard approaching him. Atomica. She was Johnny Quick's girlfriend and able to shrink down to molecular size and back again to her original human size. She normally rode around, about an inch tall, on Johnny's shoulder.

"Well, hello there," she drawled, blue eyes sparkling maliciously. "I don't think we've met yet. You're Richard, aren't you?"

Dick smiled back. Maybe he could gain traction with the oldest game in the world. "My friends call me Dick. I'd offer to shake your hand, but I'm all tied up at the moment." He flashed his baby blues at her and hoped the dimples would have their usual effect.

They did. She smiled and began twirling her long hair around one finger. "I'm Rhonda, Rhonda Pineda. Pleased to meet you. Too bad you have to be tied up like that. I hope Superwoman didn't hurt you too bad." She moistened a fingertip and rubbed some dried blood off Dick's cheek. "Want me to kiss it better?" she husked in a low voice.

"I'd never turn down a kiss from a pretty lady," Dick replied, voice equally seductive. "But I could kiss you better with my hands free."

Her smile brightened as she leaned in. "Now, why would I want to do that? I just looooove my men restrained," she murmured and touched her lips to Dick's, then brought her sharp little teeth down hard on his lower lip. Dick recoiled and she let go, laughing at the blood spilling down his chin.

"Rhonda, just what are you doin'?" a male voice came from the other end of the room. Johnny Quick strode over to find Atomica giggling and dangerously close to the new prisoner. Quick's eyes passed from his girlfriend to the new interloper, grinning wickedly. He pushed the girl away from Nightwing and stood tall, cracking his knuckles.

"What are you tryin' to do with my girl?" he said. "You stay away from her, hear me?" He swung and connected with Nightwing's chin. Fortunately, Dick had seen it coming and rolled with the blow, hauling himself upright and spitting blood from his mouth.

"I didn't start anything, Johnny, is it? She came over to me," Dick said. "Why don't you ask your girl?"

"I ain't askin' my girl. I'm askin' you!" Johnny said and grinned even more broadly. "I've heard about you, _Dick_! You think you got more rights than the rest of us just because you were raised by that billionaire? Well, me and mine, we take what we want and we're just as good as you are." He sneered and bent near Dick's face with the final words, almost nose to nose. "You better mind your P's and Q's or you'll be in a world of hurt, boy!"

Dick had heard about Johnny Allan and Rhonda Pineda, or Johnny and Rhonnie as they'd called themselves. During his captivity in this blasted chair, he'd listened to the Crime Syndicate gossiping among themselves. A modern-day Bonnie and Clyde, they'd robbed banks and murdered their way through multiple cities before an accident at the Earth-3 S.T.A.R. Labs gave them powers.

He'd been dealing with idiot smalltime crooks since he was nine years old, and the old wise-ass Robin flared. "Yeah, well, I've heard that before," Dick returned sneer for sneer. "I'm used to dealing with brain-donors like you."

A lightening quick blow hit his chest and Johnny was back in his place, grinning. "Y'all gonna stay away from my girl, now, Nightwing. Hey Rhonda! Watch this!" He zipped around Dick's chair, raining blows on him from all sides. Johnny soon became a blur surrounding him, the punches and kicks fast and furious, punctuated by Rhonda's giggling at the sport. Johnny was just too fast. Dick rolled with the blows he could see, and endured the ones he couldn't. The chair fell over, with Dick still cuffed to it. He struggled to fight, flip himself over the back of the chair and use it as a weapon, but ended up cowering behind it to protect his most precious body parts. There was nothing for it but to try to survive this idiot. He dimly heard shouting through the red mist before it all went away entirely. 

* * *

Owlman, followed by Ultraman heard the sounds of fighting and strode into the control room. Grid watched impassively and Rhonda was giggling while Johnny systematically worked at beating their prisoner, the erstwhile Nightwing, to death.

Enraged, Owlman ran forward and tackled Johnny Quick, taking him down to the floor. "How dare you!" Owlman shouted, pounding a cringing Johnny with both fists. "Nightwing wasn't to be touched! Those were my orders!"

Cringing away from Owlman's punishment, Johnny whined, "But he's no good to anybody, anymore. He oughta be disposed of. And why do we hafta watch him? Me and Rhonda got better things to do!"

Ultraman watched with a look of amusement in his red eyes. "He has a point, Thomas," he said with a smirk.

Thomas dropped Johnny with a thump and went over to where Dick lay, still attached to the chair. He felt for a pulse and, finding one, relaxed minutely. He found a key in his belt and unlocked the cuffs, then squatted down next to the boy. Silently, he picked him up in his arms and turned to face Ultraman, face thunderous. "You idiot! You absolute consummate fool!" Owlman said in a low, grating voice. "You have no idea just how valuable this boy is!"

Ultraman, arms folded over his huge chest, glared right back. "He's worthless to our cause, Thomas. You just want him because he reminds you of Talon. Your sentiment has always been your weakness and I won't have it endangering our plans here."

"He knows this world," Thomas said between clenched teeth. "He knows who the major players are, the heroes and the criminals. Do you think that we've cleared all opposition by neutralizing the Justice League? There are dozens of heroes who aren't actively affiliated with the League and this boy knows them all! He might even," Thomas moved closer to Ultraman. "know sources of kryptonite on this planet or which scientists might be able to synthesize it!"

"It scarcely matters," Ultraman shouted. "He's our enemy and he hasn't given us any intel so far. Superwoman worked him over thoroughly and he hasn't said anything. He's worthless. A waste of our effort. "

"Not if he agrees to ally with us," Owlman shouted back. "And I have his agreement. If he sees us as his only friends, we'll have access to that information and his cooperation." He looked bleakly at the toppled chair and the bloodstains that surrounded it. "But it's clear that he's not safe here. I won't gain his trust if I leave him out here to be preyed on by the petty criminals you've gathered to our cause." He turned to leave.

"And just what are you planning?" Ultraman grabbed his upper arm, hard.

"I'm taking him to Gotham, "Thomas said. "It's his home and mine as well, since Batman is gone. He can introduce me to the leading gang leaders and help with the transition to my rule. Doubtless he knows the systems Bruce Wayne set up to run the city."

"While you try to turn him into the Talon you lost. Well, I have news for you, Thomas. Talon is dead and he's not coming back," Ultraman spat. "But I agree that it's a good idea to put some distance between us for a while."

Thomas didn't answer, but strode from the room. 

* * *

Dick woke slowly, feeling a soft mattress beneath him. Hmmmm, been a while since he'd lain on such a great mattress, almost like he'd had a the manor. He opened his eyes to see familiar surroundings. This was Batman's room at the JLA headquarters and he was in Bruce's bed . He'd been chained to a chair and now...Memory returned. Johnny Quick. He tried to sit up and a dozen aches told him that it was a bad idea. He lifted his right hand and ran it through his hair, noticing the marks that the cuffs had left behind. Not a dream, then. He felt like hell. He lay back, taking inventory. At least one cracked rib, more bruises on his chest, lost a tooth, couldn't breathe through his nose; broken?

"You don't want to touch the splint unless you want your nose to heal crooked," Thomas Wayne, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, came into the room. He looked younger in street clothes, his dark hair running to curls, also looking more relaxed than Bruce ever had. Thomas took a seat in a chair beside the bed and leaned forward, elbows on knees. "I'm sorry about Johnny. He disobeyed orders to leave you alone," Thomas said with a frown, looking even more like Bruce. "He won't bother you anymore. We're leaving here."

"Where are we going?" Dick asked.

"I thought Gotham," Thomas said, eyes on the floor. "With Bruce...gone...Gotham needs a strong hand if it's anything like my own Gotham. I'm hoping that you can help me with that."

Alarm pulsed through Dick's mind. Bruce might be gone, but the identity of Batman wasn't known yet. He hoped. Trying to be casual, he said, "Do you plan to let it be known that Thomas Wayne is Owlman?"

Thomas looked up and smiled. "My reasons for secrecy are, I imagine, very similar to Bruce's. I need a place of safety and privacy during my off-duty hours, so no, I'll just be one of Bruce's relatives taking up residence after Bruce's death."

Pain stabbed deep inside. "Is he?" Dick asked, voice gone suddenly ragged.

"Dead?" Thomas replied, then paused for a long moment. "As far as you're concerned, you should consider him dead and gone." 

* * *

Miles away, a grubby form dressed in shredded black body armor fought his way up the final mine shaft. Panting, he kicked out the boards that had closed the entrance of the abandoned mine. It was dawn of a bright summer day. Trees and rusted equipment filled the area near the entrance. Clearly nobody had been here in years. He bent down and picked up a piece of old newspaper, stuffed inside the body of a rusted out car. The Sacramento Bee, dated 1976, lay under his hand. He was on Earth, then. Hopefully it was his earth. He'd been able to get out of the pocket dimension before the doorway had closed on the League, leaving them behind.

He found the road and began to follow it, blending into the shadows whenever a car came. At last, he came into a small town and, fortuitously, there was an unattended ATM outside a bank. He pulled a debit card from a pouch and fed it into the machine. He always carried a card for a well-stocked dummy account set up for Matches Malone years ago. The card worked, giving him the maximum allowable amount. It wasn't much but it would buy clothing. Ducking into cover, he removed his cape, cowl and belt, turning his shirt inside out. With the tights, he could arguably be an elite runner in a speed suit.

He found the local 24 hour megastore, all but empty because of the early hour. He quickly bought clothing and dressed, then reentered the store, going to the media department. Each television blared the same pictures. His jaw tightened when he saw what was shown on every channel. The Crime Syndicate claimed to own the planet. At the next image, his eyes narrowed with his brows drawn and his fists clenched. Dick...


	4. Two Butlers

Author's note: I'm noticing that many of you are favoriting this story. For that, thank you! But...um...I do really love reviews and feedback too. I'd love to hear from you. I write FASTER for feedback. And I take requests, too ;)

* * *

CHAPTER 4

Dick refused any pain medication if it was administered by Pennyworth and so he had an uncomfortable flight to Gotham City in Owlman's small jet. During the travel, he feigned sleep and turned Thomas' words over and over in his mind. Thomas had told him to 'consider' Bruce dead and gone. Maybe he wasn't dead. Maybe he was somewhere he could be rescued from. He couldn't shake the hope that somehow, someway Batman and the League were alive somewhere. They'd all beaten death before, so maybe, maybe...

He had to keep hope in his heart while pretending to ally himself with Bruce's evil twin. Thomas might have been a brother on his own Earth, but his resemblance to Bruce was more than unnerving. Batman had trained his protégés, and Dick especially, to unquestioning obedience from an early age. Living with the man had inspired love and admiration as well. Dick was simply used to deferring to Bruce's judgment and orders and wanted, above all, to make him proud. Now he was faced with a man who looked, sounded and probably even smelled like Bruce Wayne. He wondered whether Thomas could read him as well as Bruce could. Dick's best poker face was no match for Bruce's sharp blue-eyed gaze. Could he fool Thomas well enough to stay alive?

He'd been undercover before, at risk of his life. Sure, he'd been playing roles since he was ten and dressed as a girl to play bait for child predators. This was different. This man wanted, no expected, Dick to replace the brother/son he'd lost. Man, how did he get into situations like this? He wished Roy and Wally were here to commiserate with. These things only happened to Bats, they'd tell him...

Interesting thought. Wally was stuck with the League, but Roy..? Dick made a mental note just as the jet came in to land on the private airstrip Bruce had installed on Manor grounds.

"Sir? Are you awake?" Pennyworth tapped his shoulder. "We have arrived."

Dick pried his eyes open. "We're here?" he said. "Okay, just give me a moment, Pennyworth..." He painfully hauled himself out of the seat. Like Bru...Thomas, he was dressed in jeans, a tee shirt and sneakers. Thomas had gone shopping for him, using Talon's sizes. All the clothing fit. Go figure. Waving away Pennyworth's proffered assistance, he gimped his way down the ladder to the pavement.

"In my manor, there was a cobblestone pathway to the back door of the house," Thomas commented. "It should start about there." He pointed.

"Yeah," Dick said. "Ours is gravel, but goes the same place." He followed Thomas, noting that the other man was purposely slowing his gait so that Dick could keep up. Sympathy. This murderous criminal was treating him with sympathy, damn him. Not-Bruce. He's not Bruce. Not-Bruce.

The arrived at the back door and Dick tried the doorknob, surprised to find it unlocked. He led the way through the kitchen and into the foyer, Thomas and Pennyworth trailing behind. Dick came to a sudden stop under the great chandelier that lit the entryway. He gulped.

Alfred Pennyworth, the original, stood there stiffly with shotgun aimed at the intruders.

"Master Richard," Alfred said. "Who are your guests?" The butler looked at them more closely. "I believe I recognize Owlman from the television but..." Alfred blinked, closed his eyes hard, then opened them again.

Pennyworth simply smiled and removed his hat. "Alfred Pennyworth, I presume," Pennyworth said. "My counterpart on this earth. If he is anything like me, he is also quite a good shot and the gun is loaded."

Dick smiled with a confidence he didn't feel. "Alfred Pennyworth, meet Pennyworth. And this," he gestured. "Is Owlman, as you guessed. They'll be...staying...at the manor a while."

While the butlers eyed each other warily, Owlman removed his cowl. "I think that your Alfred, of all people, can be trusted with the secret. I am Thomas Wayne, eldest son of Dr. Thomas and Mrs. Martha Wayne on my Earth." He stretched out a hand and gave Alfred a beaming smile of the sort that Bruce generally used for press conferences.

Alfred cast a glance at Dick, who nodded, before setting down his shotgun and shaking Wayne's hand. "I am pleased to meet you, sir. You do have a strong look of Dr. Wayne about you," Alfred said, eyes returning to Pennyworth. "You, Mr. Pennyworth, seem to be my twin and yet, not."

"A slight run-in with the Joker, alas," Pennyworth said gravely. "It has left its mark."

"Indeed?" Alfred replied. "You must tell me about it. In the meantime, I trust that you, Master Dick, have no objection to old room? Good. And you, sir, I have a number of fine guestrooms avail..."

"No, I will be staying in the master suite," Owlman said. "Batman is gone and will not be returning. I will assume Bruce Wayne's territory and will manage it with Dick's assistance."

Alfred's eyebrows raised and he took a quick breath. "I see, sir. I have not cleared the suite of Master Bruce's belongings. Do you wish to delay your occupancy until I can do that?"

But Thomas Wayne was already halfway up the grand staircase. "I know my way, Alfred. The suite is fine as it is. I am curious about Bruce. Seeing his belongings will be interesting."

Alfred and Dick traded glances and Alfred noticed Pennyworth at his elbow. Having no choice, he turned to his alternate. "And you, Mr. Pennyworth, do you have any preferences?"

Pennyworth gave him a pale stare. "I won't put you out. As I recall, there are other quarters downstairs next to the butler's rooms, at Arkham Manor, in any case. If the layout is the same at Wayne Manor, those should be quite comfortable."

"They are the same," Alfred said. "I'll take you to them."

"I'll go on up to my own room," Dick said. "And Alfie, would you bring me some fresh towels? I want to take a shower."

"Of course, sir," Alfred said. "This way, Mr. Pennyworth," he said, heading towards the back stairs. 

* * *

The suite next to Alfred had once belonged to the housekeeper who had worked with his father. It was a small apartment, a mirror image version of Alfred's own, with small living room, kitchenette, bedroom and bath. The two shared a small terrace surrounded by some of Mrs. Wayne's treasured roses.

"Very nice," Pennyworth commented. "It will do." He glanced at his counterpart. "It seems that young Master Richard has decided on names for us both. Pennyworth for me and Alfred for you. How like our own Talon to assign nicknames."

Alfred frowned. "You have your own Dick Grayson?"

"Had," Pennyworth said. "It behooves you to keep a better watch on your own than Master Thomas did on ours."

"I see. What do you recommend, then?" Alfred asked carefully.

"Talon was always a hothead, ruled more by his heart than his head. I imagine that yours is similar. As long as he remains loyal to Thomas' interests, he will be protected, as will you."

"And what of Master Bruce? Our own Batman?" Alfred said.

"Him? He is dead, along with the rest of the Justice League," Pennyworth said."

"You saw him die?" Alfred's voice was steady but quiet.

"What does it matter? He isn't coming back from where we left him," Pennyworth said and checked his watch. "We should begin dinner. I know that Master Thomas likes to dine early."

"That has been our schedule as well," Alfred said. "Come, then. I'll show you what supplies we have on hand. Since the invas...arrival...of the Crime Syndicate, the deliveries have become erratic."

Pennyworth sniffed and followed Alfred up the stairs. "That, then, will be our first order of business once we make Master Thomas' presence known to the neighborhood."

Leaving Pennyworth to finish grilling the steaks and preparing the salad nicoise, Alfred took a stack of towels upstairs to Master Dick's room. He had no doubt that the boy would have much to say. 

* * *

At his tap, Dick opened the door carefully, then let him in. While Alfred watched, Dick limped to a chair and sat down while Alfred locked the door behind him. He was careful to set the anti-bugging alarms, although he had his doubts about their effectiveness against Owlman. As a precaution, he started the shower in the attached bathroom and left the door open and turned the radio on.

Turning back to the lad, what he saw made him purse his lips. What had they done to his and Bruce's boy? Dick, at rest now, was slumped forward, elbows on knees.

"Let me see," Alfred said in Dick's ear. "You look worse than you did on the television."

Dick gave him a half-grin. "I've had worse."

"Hmmm," Alfred said, checking him over. "Well, nothing life-threatening. Would you like some Naprosyn?"

"I'd nod my head if it didn't hurt," Dick admitted. "I was afraid to take anything that zombie butler offered."

Alfred fetched the drug from Dick's medicine cabinet and a glass of water. "Having met him, I can certainly understand that. What are Owlman's intentions?"

Dick swallowed the pill and gulped the water down. "As near as I can tell, he wants to take Bruce's place and, as he put it, run Gotham. I think he plans for Owlman to become the local crime lord here." He held the cold glass to his forehead and looked up at Alfred. "Oh, and he wants me for his Talon. It seems I remind him a lot of his own Dick Grayson."

"Oh dear," Alfred said and sank down onto the bed. "And what of Master Bruce? Do you know anything about him?"

Dick's head sank again. "Nothing definite. The entire Crime Syndicate honestly believes that the Justice League is no longer a threat to them. I've been told that Batman is either "dead" or so far gone that he might as well be." He glanced over at one of the men who'd raised him. "I agreed to ally myself to Owlman, to take down Ultraman and the rest of the Syndicate. I hope I haven't betrayed Bruce by doing so."

Alfred watched the guilt play in the depths of Dick's bright blue eyes and knew how corrosive it could be. "I think that Master Bruce would understand and applaud your move. He would not want you to throw your life away in an unconsidered and pointless battle against overwhelming odds." He stood up and moved briskly towards the door. "You have your shower. Dinner will be ready in about ten minutes in the formal dining room." He turned back and noted that the boy still had not moved. "Are you all right?"

Dick stood up carefully. "No, I'm not all right. Not that it makes any difference. And Alfred, we have to keep him away from the Cave if we can."

"If we can," Alfred said. "In any case, when word came about the Crime Syndicate, I began moving the more important materials into storage in the deeper cave systems. The Crays have been wiped and the backups hidden. All that remains now are some fast cars, a jet or two, batsuits and some trophies. Oh," Alfred smiled impishly. "And the crime lab."

Dick grinned back. "I'm sure they'll find a good use for that." 

* * *

Two thousand miles away at the Laughlin/Bullhead Nevada International Airport, a tall man in a loud shirt and battered chinos got onto a jet bound for Gotham City, with three intermediate stops. His luggage consisted of a single duffel bag. He took his place in economy class and stretched his long legs into the aisle, tucking his sunglasses into a shirt pocket. The jet took off smoothly and he was off.

The lady in the seat next to him settled. "Flying is so frightening, isn't it?" she said to the man in the seat next to her.

He put down the in-flight magazine he was studying. "I don't know," he said in a nasal, New Jersey accent. "I don't fly much and there's other things that scare me more. Them taken away my cigarettes, for one," he said, fumbling a match stick out of a pocket and placing it between his lips.

She smiled. "I can understand that. But this flight ends in San Francisco. That's not so long."

"Yeah," he said. "It ain't. His eye flashed to the screens on the seatbacks that was broadcasting the news. "And them Crime Syndicate people. They scare the crap outta me, too. I'm surprised the planes are still flyin'."

"Oh, didn't you hear Ultraman's announcement about that the first day? He wants to keep businesses running and people to get on with their lives. He says that he's going to start levying taxes soon," she said with a frown. "I hope they're lower than what we've been paying."

"Amen ta that," the man said and held out a hand. "My name's Malone but my friends call me 'Matches'". He leaned back in his seat. "So, whaddaya hear about this Richard Grayson-Nightwing person they caught?"


	5. Paying the Piper

CHAPTER 5

The formal dining room, as Alfred was fond of saying, seated 35 and slept 20. The family rarely used it except for large parties and banquets. The small dining area or the kitchen was enough for day to day use. Dick shivered, his hair still damp from the thorough scrubbing he'd given himself. This room was drafty, too and although he and Thomas sat near the blazing fireplace, he couldn't shake a chill at his core..

Thomas had clearly found Bruce's closet and donned a shirt and slacks that Bruce sometimes wore. Sapphire blue silk shirt and black slacks with matching loafers. As he'd suspected, the two were of a size. He, himself wore an old pair of comfy jeans with a Gotham Knights sweat shirt. Let Thomas make of that what he wanted, he wasn't going to go formal even for this blasted dining room.

Both butlers brought in the first course, Pennyworth serving Thomas and Alfred serving Dick. Alfred gave him a brief smile and said in his ear, "I tested for poisons or other chemicals. The food is fine." Dick nodded and saw Pennyworth murmuring to his own master, probably a similar assurance.

Dick smiled back in gratitude. "Who cooked?" he asked in a normal tone.

"The steaks and salad nicoise are Pennyworth's, I prepared the side dishes and dessert," Alfred said. "I'm glad to know that Pennyworth's cooking skills are similar to my own, although I believe we should exchange recipes. He may have come up with some improvements." _That's right, Alfie_, Dick silently encouraged him. _Keep buttering the guy up._

"Now that we are settled back in Gotham," Thomas said, while Dick tasted the steak. It was very rare, barely kissed by the flame. "We should begin to discuss our plans."

At the far end of the dining room, Dick saw Pennyworth gesture to Alfred and the two slipped through the door to the butler's pantry. "Our plans?" Dick said through a mouthful of steak. "You mean, our plans to take down the Crime Syndicate and Ultraman?"

"Eventually, yes," Thomas said, watching Dick closely. _Like an owl sizing up a small bird_, Dick reflected, then quickly banished the thought. _Focus, Grayson!_

"Then, what do you plan to do first?" Dick took a sip of his wine. It glowed red as blood in the firelight. "Why wait to take down Ultraman and his cronies? The Earth can't take much more of their rule."

"First, I must consolidate my power base. We fled my own Gotham, bringing only ourselves and basic weaponry. I must rebuild in this Gotham. Once I have control over the gangs of the city, I'll have an army." Thomas smiled and tossed back the rest of his wine. "And of course, you will be my second in command. Didn't Batman have control of the criminals in his territory? We can simply move in and take over."

"Uh, I don't know how much you know about Batman, but we basically caught the criminals and they were put in prison. We tried to break up the gangs," Dick said hesitantly.

"Oh, why that is very inefficient," Thomas took another sip of his wine and refilled Dick's glass. "I'd heard a rumor to that effect, but it sounded so silly that I discounted it. How do you gather power that way? Where did the Wayne fortune come from? Surely Bruce used his businesses as money-laundering operations?"

"No, Bruce's businesses are all legitimate," Dick said, feeling vaguely nauseated. "We used our time and resources to fight crime, not prop it up."

"Really? But if you want to truly fight crime, all you need to do is kill some criminals, make an example or two, and the crime rate drops immediately. Surely, you've killed by this time?"

Dick eyed his bloody steak and gently pushed his plate away. "Batman doesn't believe in killing." He swallowed hard, remembering Bludhaven and Blockbuster. "I agree with his code."

"Batman didn't believe in killing. Bruce Wayne is dead," Thomas said. "A new time has arrived on this earth, and while I do plan to eliminate Ultraman and seize control over the Crime Syndicate, I don't intend to limit my methods." He leveled his gaze at Dick. "I hope that you don't plan to make that difficult for me."

"Why do you want me as your ally? I know how you feel about the Dick Grayson who died, but I'm not him," Dick said, and while he was saying it, he mentally kicked himself for being this honest. _I've got to stand my ground now, before he makes me do something irredeemable, that changes me so much I can never go back to who I was._ "I don't kill. Ever. And I don't believe that Bruce is really dead. Not until I see a body."

"I see. Well, he is certainly gone permanently and probably dead by now. We trapped the Justice League on the other side of a cross-dimensional gate and closed it behind us. The world they were left in is inhospitable to life and Bruce Wayne is human. He has no powers that would allow him to survive," Thomas's voice gentled. "I didn't want to tell you this so baldly, but it's the truth."

"He has been written off before and come back," Dick said. _Hang on, Grayson. Just hang on. There's no proof he's dead._

"Very well, cards fully on the table," Thomas said. "I want a family again. Talon and I were close. I took him in as a teenager and I miss him. He was my brother and, with Alfred, the only family I had left. I hope that you and I can develop the same kind of partnership." His blue eyes sought Dick's. "But more is needed. I will present the authorities with a body that Alfred," he paused, smiling. "Pennyworth, as you call him, has acquired, destroyed almost beyond recognition but containing the DNA of Bruce Wayne. Bruce will be dead, officially." He leaned forward. "You are Bruce Wayne's heir. You inherit the entirety of his holdings."

Dick started and Thomas smiled. "You didn't know that, did you? Grid has confirmed it. As the new Wayne of Gotham, you are in a position to support my activities financially."

With a frown, Dick replied, "You can't force me to do anything."

Thomas dabbed at his lips with his napkin. "I won't force you. I respect your beliefs, but this is a war we'll be fighting. If you really want the Syndicate brought down, you may have to make some compromises.. And I've already set up some meetings for us."

"Meetings?" Dick replied, stomach sinking.

"Owlman is meeting an Oswald Cobblepot at the Iceberg Lounge. He seems to have taken over the local gang activity. At the very least, he seems to be connected with all the players. I think his underworld nickname is 'Penguin'." Thomas glanced at his sullen-faced partner. "You can't go as Richard Grayson or as Nightwing. Perhaps you could go as Talon?" he suggested hopefully.

Dick kept his face a blank. "Are you sure you want to replace Talon so soon? You're still mourning him."

"It is rather soon, but I already think of you that way. Of course, there is an alternative," Thomas said. "Since Bruce Wayne is dead, your codename could be 'Batman'..." 

* * *

SAN FRANCISCO

A worried Matches Malone debarked into the crowded terminal. The string of flights that Malone had booked should have kept any followers busy while he quietly chartered a jet and flew directly to Happy Harbor to rescue Dick. The Crime Syndicate had brought down the JLA Watchtower and landed it there, to be their new headquarters.

Now that he'd seen the full footage that the Syndicate was circulating, he realized that he needed an even lower profile. A two-bit criminal chartering a jet might send Grid's attention his way. He hadn't liked the way Dick looked in the footage, alive but...defeated somehow. He had to get to him as fast as possible. He had allies who were closer, yes, but didn't dare contact them. The Syndicate controlled communications to a level that he'd never seen before. But he was in San Francisco, home to the Titans...

Malone made his decision. Shouldering his backpack he walked over to the cab stand, patiently waiting his turn. When the cab door closed, he murmured, "Titans' Tower."


	6. Divided Loyalty

Author's Note: Just a reminder that those who leave reviews go to Heaven!

CHAPTER 6

Dick sat quietly in the ruins of dinner while the butlers brought in dessert while he fought his first instinct to throttle Thomas for daring to suggest that Batman be used as Owlman's flunky. To debase Batman and all he stood for... Only the need to keep Batman's legacy alive somehow had driven him from his grief over Bruce's passing to assume the cowl. If Batman was really gone, it was up to Dick to preserve the birthright Bruce had left him.

"I think I'd rather be 'Talon'," Dick said. "It's more fitting that Owlman's partner be called that. Batman is a symbol of the past." Meeting Thomas' gaze, he was glad to see he'd struck the right note. He decided to push a little. "I'd also suggest you not declare Bruce dead just yet," he said and gave Thomas what he hoped was a boyish smile. "Both Batman and Bruce Wayne being declared dead at the same time could lead our enemies directly to Wayne Manor, especially when you factor in my recent unmasking. I think it would be an unnecessary risk to our plans." _And it will also keep Bruce's identity safe until he can come back to claim it._

"You have a point," Thomas said thoughtfully. "All right, we won't take any action with regard to Bruce Wayne. Who holds the power of attorney in Bruce's absence?"

"Lucius Fox generally runs things, but I have power of attorney," Dick admitted grudgingly. "Usually I just do what Lucius suggests."

"You'll have to introduce me to him. I'll have some ideas of my own," Thomas said. "I take it that Bruce's family background is well known?" At Dick's nod, he went on. "I can't be his brother, then. I'll be a cousin who has lived abroad for many years and has only just returned to the United States. Yes, that will work," Thomas said with a satisfied smile. "Now, shall we enjoy this baked Alaska that our Alfreds have prepared?"

Dick turned to his dessert while Alfred dimmed the lights and Pennyworth lit the liquor poured onto each dessert. The flames highlighted the planes of Thomas' face, quietly triumphant in his Louis quinze chair. _For Bruce a standard dessert is a scoop of vanilla ice cream. I think our Thomas has a taste for luxury. Good thing I've never been addicted to the things that money can buy; thanks Bruce._

* * *

SAN FRANCISCO

Matches Malone stepped out of the cab and looked at the wreckage of what had once been a beautiful building. It was still smoldering, wisps of black smoke curling out of the ruins of the tower scattered over an acre of manicured garden.

"What happened?" he murmured.

The cabbie, neck craned out of his cab window, replied. "They came two days ago. Ultraman and Superwoman, they call 'em. They pounded the building down and set fire to the rest. At least, that's the word on the street. They're hunting down anybody who ever knew that Richard Grayson fella, the one who was Nightwing? You ever gave that guy the time of day, Ultraman wants to punch your ticket permanently."

Matches swallowed hard, remembering the brave young people who had lived in the tower and, most of all, their leader. "Did any of them survive? What happened to the Titans?" _Tim, what happened to you?_

"The building was empty when they got here. I think the Titans went underground. Anyway, they didn't find any bodies afterward," the cabbie said. "So, you want to go back to the City or are you gonna stay here?"

"I think I'll stay here for a while," Matches said. "I'll call when I need a ride back."

"Suit yourself," the cabbie said. "But don't go around telling anybody you're a friend of the Titans or Nightwing. It could get you killed." The cabbie pulled the car away and sped down the road at high speed.

Matches picked his way through the rubble. _Tim isn't here. He wasn't here when the building went. The Titans were warned, they must have been or they'd have defended their headquarters. I have to check, make sure that Tim wasn't killed here._ Not for the first time he was frustrated by the communications lock down, but if the Syndicate was hunting Dick's associates, he might endanger Tim and the Titans by trying to call them.

Another thought occurred to him, though. He dialed a number on his burner cell phone. It was answered by a familiar voice. "Jim Gordon."

"Jim," he said, careful not to say his name. "I was wondering if you had a moment?"

"Hey there!" Gordon, bless him, was equally cautious. "Where the Hell have you been? The whole damned world has gone nuts. Have you heard about your eldest?"

"Yes, I know about what happened. How is your daughter?" He forced a laugh. "You know she spent half her childhood with my family."

"Oh, she's all right. She's on vacation out near the old clubhouse. She said she plans on doing some bird-watching." Gordon said. _Good. One family member was safe. And at the old clubhouse? Happy Harbor, the original location for the Justice League. Bird Watching? She's surveilling, watching Owlman._

"How about the younger boys?" Bruce asked. "What are they up to?"

"I saw them a couple of days ago when they hit town, but I don't think they're in any difficulty right now," Gordon replied. "Nobody has been asking me about them, if that helps." _Thank God, the boys are in the wind, too. Tim didn't die here._

"All right, then. Say hello to your daughter for me when she comes back from her vacation," Bruce said. "I think I'd like to do some bird watching myself. It sounds relaxing."

"That sounds like a good idea. Let me know how that goes, will you? I'd like to hear how it goes," Gordon said, his voice sounding lighter.

"I'll be sure to keep in touch," Bruce said and hung up. He returned to the road and fished a small remote out of his duffel, then clicked a tiny button. Off to the side, well away from the ruined Titans Tower, huge doors embedded in the ground pulled open. From the underground hangar, a small VTOL jet rose to the surface. Bruce removed the battery from the now-useless phone and tossed the cell into the bushes. He strode to the jet, entering the cockpit, then fired up the engines and took off into the sky. The Titans, since Dick's day as leader, had never stored their files with the JLA and so the Syndicate had no record of the underground bunkers at the Tower. Bruce grimaced, worry raising its head again at the thought of Dick. He was just grateful that Batgirl was at Happy Harbor trying to find Dick.

He pointed the jet East, towards Rhode Island, where the ruins of the JLA Watchtower sat and where Dick was being held.

* * *

WAYNE MANOR-GOTHAM CITY

"Now, about the cave," Thomas said crisply while the butlers cleared the table and served coffee. "You should give me a tour of the facilities down there."

"Cave?" Dick said casually. "What cave is that?"

Thomas frowned, then his face cleared. "Bruce trained you well not to give out secrets. The cave system underneath this house! We used it as our headquarters back home and Batman is known to do the same. At least, that's what Grid said, based on the JLA records. Is the entrance still from the old clock in the study?"

"The JLA records say that?" Dick asked. "I'm surprised they had that much information. Batman would never have volunteered that."

"There were some secret files kept by the Green Lanterns as a precaution against Batman, ah, 'going rogue' was the phrase they used. So, how about it?" Thomas stood up. "Let's look at this cave. We need to put together a Talon uniform for you if you're going to attend my meeting with Mr. Cobblepot tomorrow. I like to have an ally at my back when dealing with unknowns."

A silent Dick Grayson showed Thomas the cave entrance and led him down the stairs into the batcave below the house. Dick saw signs that Alfred had indeed been clearing the area. The trophy cases remained, but several of the mainframes were dark. The various jets, boats and other flying machines had disappeared and Dick didn't want to know where they had gone to. The less he knew, the less he could tell. He already knew that the Syndicate members were capable of torturing to get information.

"It looks as majestic as our own headquarters," Thomas said, looking around. "We'll have to remove the bat insignia and replace them with our own. But over all, I'm very pleased with Bruce's work here. Ah, Pennyworth," Thomas said. Pennyworth had arrived at Thomas' elbow in dead silence, unheard even by Dick himself.

"I see the various costumes and Dick has shown me the vault. Can you cobble together an appropriate Talon costume for Dick?"

"I believe so, sir. There are a number of...Ha...Nightwing outfits that can be retailored appropriately. There are various eyepieces which can be repurposed to make a mask. I am confident that Dick will be able to attend the meeting in full regalia," Pennyworth said.

"Good. I'm glad to hear it," Thomas said, still examining the contents of the cave. He stopped in front of one clear glass case, containing a brightly colored red and green outfit with a yellow cape. "And whose was this? Yours, I imagine?"

"Uh...yes, that was my costume when I was Robin," Dick said.

"It looks tattered and are those blood stains on it?" Thomas looked closely, then turned to Dick with concern on his face. "Batman didn't watch over your safety very well."

"No. He...I mean...I did all right," Dick stuttered. Thomas couldn't be allowed to know about Tim or Jason. He only hoped that Alfred was clearing their rooms of before Owlman or, God forbid, Pennyworth found out about their existence. "Batman trusted me to take care of myself in the field and injuries happen." Dick tried to look attentive and competent.

"I can see that," Thomas said. "Well, I think that we can relegate this piece of your past to a storage room somewhere. You are no longer a Bat, but an Owl."

* * *

WAYNE MANOR

MIDNIGHT

Dick couldn't sleep. Thomas had seen the cave and seemed to be content with what he had seen. The considerable firepower that Alfred had hidden mustn't fall into Owlman's hands and Dick commended Alfred's foresight. He still didn't know what he would do tomorrow at the meeting with Penguin and his goons. He'd have to keep playing it by ear, he supposed.

He heard a light tapping on his bedroom door and let Alfred in. "Alfred," Dick whispered. "Where have you been?"

"While you were downstairs in the cave, I did a bit of house cleaning upstairs," Alfred said. "The other bedrooms on this floor were untidy and I dislike guests seeing poor housekeeping."

"I see," Dick said. He turned the radio on and murmured into Alfred's ear, "You cleared out Tim's and Jason's rooms?"

"I did. And Master Damian's as well, God rest his soul," Alfred said solemnly. "So far as Thomas Wayne will ever know, you are the only living son of Bruce Wayne."

Dick nodded. "They know about what happened to me?"

"I presume so," Alfred said. "I haven't seen either of them since your capture. If I do, I will find a way to warn them off."

"Good. Thanks, Alfred," Dick said and ran a hand through his hair. "I've done undercover work, and pretended to be Bruce's enemy, but I was mad at him at the time. I've never had to pretend to...to..."

"To be a traitor?" Alfred asked gently. "That it is so difficult for you only demonstrates your sterling qualities. But now, my lad, for your own survival you must focus on your acting skills and make them believe the lie."

"I know, Alfred," Dick sighed. "I'm just afraid of what I might have to do to prove that to them."

In Bruce Wayne's bedroom, Thomas sat in an easy chair by the fire. His own Alfred tapped on the door and entered with a small tray of tea. "Ah, Alfred," Thomas said. "Thank you."

"I know that you enjoy a cup of tea before bed, sir," Pennyworth said, beginning to lay the tea things on Thomas' side table.

Thomas watched him in silence, noting how slow and deliberate his butler's movements had become. "All right, Alfred. Out with it," Thomas said. "What do you want to say?"

"Sir, now that you mention it, I did have a concern to bring to your attention," the pallid butler said apologetically. "Your new Talon, young Grayson..."

"Alfred, you've been warning me against the boy since we landed here. He's loyal, I know it," Thomas said.

"He is loyal, sir," Pennyworth replied. "But to whom?"

"Batman is dead. He's not coming back," Thomas said. "I saw the door close and he's on the other side of it. Dick has no choice but to ally with me; I'm the only thing standing between him and Ultraman. He has to be loyal to us or he'll be killed."

"I simply have a suggestion," Pennyworth said. "To force him into our company more quickly, I'd suggest you get the boy blooded sooner rather than later. The boy worships his former mentor. We both know that he has never killed and was conditioned against it by Batman. Once he kills, he is ours."

"Hmmmm," Thomas commented. "You may be right, there. I may have a suitable target for him as well. I understand that there is a certain police commissioner in Gotham City who is known to be incorruptible. What's the man's name? Gordon. I think that's it. Dick's first target as my new talon will be Commissioner James Gordon."


	7. Talon

CHAPTER 7

METROPOLIS, now renamed ULTROPOLIS

Ultraman strode from the headquarters of the Daily Planet. He'd just laid eyes on the counterparts of his rivals at the newspaper. Young James Olson would be nursing a broken hand for the next several months, while this world's Lois Lane cursed Ultraman for it. He smiled. He liked it when he could dominate the loved ones belonging to his absent counterpart.

He stopped on the pavement and glanced overhead. Unlike the smoggy skies of his own home city, the setting sun shone down bright from the heavens. He could feel the prickles of the light even as dusk approached. His aversion to bright light, especially the full spectrum of the sun, was a well-kept secret. His own earth was blanketed by pollution, so that only the red end of the spectrum reached the ground and he had found that he preferred it that way.

He glanced up again. He didn't have to suffer from this white sun. He was Ultraman and had no equals here, only subordinate slaves. He could dim that damned light. He lifted himself into the sky, feeling the pain of the light growing and growing, beginning to burn his skin with its brilliance. He put on more speed and soon was in orbit.

He flew into the shadow of the moon and rested in the darkness. What he needed was an eclipse; no, something that would last longer. He smiled to himself and calculated the angles of velocity he would need to achieve his goal. It was tricky, but he was Kryptonian, with a superior brain.

He laid his hands into the sandy soil and began to push the moon. He impelled the moon along its regular orbit around earth, only faster and faster until he had gathered enough momentum to slingshot the huge rock out of its original orbit and into space.

He wrestled with it, jockeying it into an orbit around the sun as though it were a planet. Sweating now, he adjusted the angle a bit until the moon mirrored the Earth, always on the day side. The moon would forever stay between the Earth and the sun, leaving Earth's day side forever in the moon's shadow as if in partial eclipse. Light enough to see by, but a comfortable red rather than daggerlike white.

Laughing in triumph, Ultraman surveyed his handiwork for a moment. Moving that much mass had been difficult and he was tired. He hadn't refueled lately; he needed sustenance. Fortunately, the files at the Watchtower had provided an answer for his immediate needs. He arched his back and swung an arc back to the Earth. It was time he visited Owlman at Wayne Manor in Gotham City.

* * *

Batman flew through the night. The eight hour flight from West Coast to East taxed his already depleted body. He wasn't sure how long it had been since he'd slept, but it was probably nearer 60 hours.

Ever since the JLA had been jumped, he'd been working at getting them all out. They'd discovered that magical energy could create a gateway home, but Zatanna could only save one person at a time before she had to replenish her magical energies. By general agreement, Batman went first to scout the situation. As Green Arrow had commented, Batman was the 'sneakiest' member of the League.

The next member, Superman, should be out by now, making his way up from the gateway Z had built. He should really be in that Nevada mine shaft waiting for Clark when he arrived, ready to plan to take the planet back. The image of Dick on that television broadcast ran through his mind. The boy looked like all the fight had been beaten out of him...No, this time the world would have to wait.

Batman pulled the cowl back and rubbed gritty eyes. He was no good to Dick this fatigued. He'd land the jet and get some rest, then go after his boy and hope he wasn't too late.

* * *

HAPPY HARBOR, RHODE ISLAND

Bide-a-Wee Motel

Morning

Matches Malone heard the alarm at his bedside go off. He creaked out of bed, cursing the lumpy mattress. He dressed quickly in a Hawaiian shirt, shorts and sandals with socks. While shaving, he listened to Channel 52, then turned to watch the broadcast, mouth open in shock.

"What the hell?" He said to the universe in general and opened the motel room door to a dull orange day. The sun was an red ball in a cloudless sky. What light it provided lacked vitality and the sky was a blue so dark it was almost purple.

"Ultraman," Matches whispered to himself. Channel 52 said that the moon had suddenly changed orbit, blocking the sun's light in a vast band around the Earth's northern circumference. Fifty-two didn't know how it was done or who did it, but Matches knew. Only one being he'd ever known had that power and Clark wouldn't do it. Only his evil double would do something like that for his own purposes. Hold the Earth to ransom, maybe?

If the sun were dimmed for too long, the crops would fail. The climate would drop to freezing in the affected areas. The glaciers would return and millions would die from starvation or freeze to death. Something had to be done about this. Now, before more damage was caused.

Matches muttered to himself. "We need contact with our satellites and there's only one way to get that." They needed control of the Watchtower. Since Dick was there already, he could save both Dick and the Earth. That was the plan, then: get Dick, check the satellite telemetry to find out just what had happened out there, contact Superman and return the moon to where it belonged. He bared his teeth in a rage-filled grin. And then go after Ultraman and his cronies.

An hour later, Matches Malone, wandered down the Happy Harbor beach. Surprisingly, he wasn't alone. Other tourists had gathered on the sand, taking pictures of the Watchtower wreckage and holding signs with slogans like "Welcome Aliens" and "Save Us From Ourselves".

Matches briefly curled his lip, then iron control reasserted itself. People had always looked in the wrong places for saviors; this was no different. He surveyed both the crowd and the area.

"Hey, Mister!" a man's voice shouted. Matches turned to see a beefy guy in sweats offer him a camera. "The wife and I want to get a shot. Would you take a picture?"

Obligingly, Matches watched while Sweatshirt and his similarly dressed wife grinned for the camera. Silently, Matches handed it back.

"You want us to take a picture of you, too?" Sweatshirt asked.

"Naw, no thanks," Matches said, brandishing his own camera. "History doesn't need my ugly mug in it." He raised his camera, adjusted the viewfinder and looked closely at the wreckage, snapping off a dozen or so photos. All was quiet at the Watchtower. There was no sign of any of the Crime Syndicate members.

He went back down the beach and slipped into the underbrush. So, Barbara was in 'the old clubhouse', was she? Matches returned to the cheap car he'd bought and followed a dirt road to a mountainous rock edging the beach, laughingly called Mount Justice by the locals. He parked the car behind some bushes.

Batman emerged, wearing a uniform taken from one of his many equipment drops. He found the old side entrance, carefully making his way through the access tunnels to the JLA's first headquarters. The heart of the "mountain" was lit and no longer smelled disused. Someone was here. He moved closer to find that most of the computers had been uncovered and a shadowy form was huddled over a keyboard.

"Took you long enough to get here," Barbara Gordon, aka Batgirl, said crisply.

Batman snorted and strode over to Batgirl's position. She'd gotten cocky since a medical miracle had taken her from wheelchair to active duty, but nothing had dimmed her gift with a computer.

"Unavoidable," Batman grunted. "Report."

Barbara swung around on the chair. "I can't find Dick; not here, anyway. I got here this morning and I think he was already gone by then." She hit a button and the screen lit up. A gurney was wheeled into the belly of a jet. She hit another button and the image zoomed.

"Owlman," Batman growled.

"I think Dick's on the gurney," Batgirl said. "And look at this." She zoomed in again.

"Alfred?" Batman said. "No, it can't be. Look at his skin...and his hair...Is the film at fault?"

"No," Batgirl said. "He really does have green hair. Exposure to some especially nasty Joker toxin. He's not our Alfred." She shuddered. "He seems to be attached to Owlman. And Dick seems to be, as well," she said in a low tone.

"What do you mean?" Batman asked. "Dick would never turn traitor."

"I wouldn't think so either, but I've hacked into the Watchtower systems and I found this." She ran more footage of a fight between Dick and Owlman, Owlman's offer of alliance and Dick's response.

"He's allying with Owlman to take down the Syndicate," Batman said firmly. "Dick would never join them. He's playing for time. Let's see some more."

They watched the remaining footage and at last saw Dick loaded onto Owlman's jet again. "Owlman is behaving as though Dick was a friend...or family," Batgirl said.

Batman said nothing, eyes glued to the monitor.

"What now, Boss?" Batgirl asked. "Rescue Dick or take the Watchtower?"

"Yes," Batman said.

* * *

GOTHAM CITY

Morning

Dick woke in his own bed after a nightmare-filled night. Thank goodness it was finally morning. Yawning, he scratched his head and opened the drapes. The day looked...wrong. He leaned out the window. There weren't any clouds but the daylight looked...he leaned out farther...it looked dim somehow.

He turned on his bedside radio and found the latest broadcast, listening with a growing horror. Something had happened to the moon and the sun was almost completely blotted out over the United States and Europe. Some new danger was threatening Earth and its heroes were gone. All they had left were the metas Dick could still find and the members of the Syndicate...

"Thomas!" he shouted and ran from his room. He found the man at the breakfast table, looking so much like Bruce it took Dick's breath away. Dammit, he even parted his hair on the same side.

"Yes, Dick?" Thomas asked pleasantly, putting down his copy of the Gotham Gazette. "What can I do for you?"

"Have you looked outside? Heard the news? About the moon?" Dick felt like he was babbling and went silent.

"You mean the change in the moon's orbit? I expected something like this," Thomas said and gestured towards the other seat at the table. "Why don't you pour yourself some coffee and we'll talk about it."

Dumbly, Dick seated himself, unable to comprehend Thomas' lack of concern. Then, "Wait. You expected this?"

"Ultraman has a very few weaknesses, known only to me," Thomas said. "One is that strong, full-spectrum sunlight has the power to harm him. In lower doses it causes pain and weakness. On our Earth, the sunlight was filtered through heavy pollutants and had a red tinge, just as it is today. I imagine that he adjusted it to fit his needs. Does that bother you?"

Dick was taken aback. He had been hoping that he could use Thomas' apparent affection for him to befriend him and create a true ally. But now? "Yes, it does bother me. This planet is my home. What will this do to the climate? To peoples' lives? The ecology?"

"I've been reading in your literature about the threat of global warming. I imagine that less sunshine would lead to a cooling of the climate, solving your problem. Aside from that, people will adjust and a few species teetering on the brink will go over, to be replaced by others. The strong will survive, as nature always intended." Thomas finally took in Dick's appalled expression. "This really does upset you."

"Yes," Dick said. "And I can't understand that you aren't affected. What are you?"

Thomas sighed. "I'm a man, Dick, who grew up on a world where it was understood that life is a constant fight for survival. Only the strong survive and only they deserve to. In turn, the next generation gains those improved traits. Did you have a Charles Darwin on this Earth?"

"Yes, we did. He was a 19th century scientist who created the theory of evolution," Dick replied.

Thomas nodded. "On our Earth, too. He was a great dictator who ruled England with a strong hand. He implemented a eugenics program that changed the face of Europe, long before Hitler refined it. Because of these great men, most of the hereditary diseases were eliminated in three generations."

Dick blinked. "So, uh, you never had a Second World War?"

"Yes, we did. Germany won and annexed all of Europe then negotiated a separate peace with the Mafia that ruled the United States. Isn't that what happened here?" Thomas asked. "I've always been interested in history and the way this Earth evolved is so peculiar, I'd like to know more."

_'Peculiar', he says._ Dick swallowed hard. "I think I'll have that coffee now."

After long discussion, Dick was left with an unsettled feeling. Thomas was generous and, in his own Gotham, had distributed charity liberally to those he ruled. He was also ruthless and believed absolutely in his code of survival of the fittest. Bruce had made Dick read Machiavelli's "The Prince". Now it seemed that he was working with a true Machiavellian now.

His stomach feeling vaguely upset, Dick went downstairs to the cave to be fitted for his Talon costume.

"Yes sir, you look a proper Talon, now," Pennyworth brushed a bit of lint from Dick's shoulder and pushed him towards the mirror. "Not as good as the original, but a very acceptable representation under the circumstances."

Dick looked glumly at his reflection. Pennyworth had taken one of Batman's gray outfits, beefed up the body armor and added a matching gorget at his throat. The bat symbol on the chest was gone, substituted with an owl badge. Twin bandoliers loaded with tiny knives crossed his chest while a utility belt sat at his hips. Black boots and round goggles with white eye-pieces completed the outfit.

"I can barely move in this," Dick complained. "Even Batman didn't wear body armor this thick."

"Master Thomas is concerned for your safety, Master Dick," Pennyworth said placidly. "He worries that he might lose another Talon. Humor him for the time being and we can make adjustments later. Oh, and Master Thomas asked me to tell you that he'd like you to do your usual workout in the suit this morning as a way to adjust yourself to it. He plans you to attend the meeting at the Iceberg Lounge this afternoon."

Dick's lips twisted. "Penguin."

"I believe that is Mr. Cobblepot's nickname, sir," Pennyworth replied.

"Oh, and Pennyworth, where is Alfred this morning?" Dick asked.

Pennyworth's face stilled. "He is well, sir, and performing his duties around the house under my supervision. As a loyal member of the household, his safety is assured, as is yours."

"I see," Dick said, watching Pennyworth climb the steps to the study above.

Grumbling under his breath, Dick moved over to the gym area of the cave and began his usual workout, albeit without the goggles. The outfit was stiff, but not as heavy as the Batman uniform and cape had been. He could move, although not as stiffly as he wanted. He was in the middle of a kata when the wall on the far side of the cave exploded inward in a hail of dust and rock.

Ultraman sped into the center of the batcave, surveying the area with an appraising glance. He caught sight of Dick Grayson immediately.

"So, Thomas has replaced his Talon after all," Ultraman boomed jovially. "I'm glad. Welcome to the team," he said.

"Uh, thank you," Dick said guardedly. "Is there an emergency?" he asked, looking pointedly at the hole in the wall.

"I'm looking for something of Batman's, so maybe you can help me find it. The records at the Watchtower spoke of a kryptonite ring that Batman had confiscated from Lex Luthor. Where is it?"

Startled, Dick almost choked. "You want kryptonite? Isn't that stuff poison to you?"

"Far from it," Ultraman said. "Although I understand that your old friend Superman was affected by it. Get the ring for me. I want it." Ultraman frowned a little. "Get it for me. Now."

If it wasn't a poison, what was it then? Dick's mind raced. Opposites. A fuel, then? Like sunlight was to Superman? Kryptonite was rare on Earth, so very rare that this might be the only supply left. The Syndicate had bulldozed its way across his planet and no one had resisted them. Suddenly, he was angry. No, he was enraged.

"Feeling a little rundown, are you?" Dick said. "After blocking the sun and putting the moon in a new orbit this morning?" Arms folded across his chest, Dick said, "No."

"You deny me?" Ultraman growled, his eyes glowing red. "I should have killed you. Get me the kryptonite or Owlman be damned, you will die."

"No," Dick repeated, altering his stance, becoming combat-ready. He'd sparred with Superman before, knowing that the Man of Steel was always pulling his punches. He might survive a while against Ultraman, but the end result was predetermined. He was probably going to die today.

But he was not going to give in to that monster.

Ultraman's face lit up in unholy glee, his fists raised, as he charged at Dick.

* * *

Author's note: Is anyone out there reading this? I've had a few reviews, but I can hear the walls echoing out here...


	8. Dancing For Your Life

CHAPTER 8 

Dick dodged the first blow and the second. The villain's face was now red with anger as Dick ran at Ultraman himself, grabbed the man's shoulders and leapt over him, landing safely behind him. By the time Ultraman had whirled around, Dick was perched on top of one of the Crays and in flight again.

Dick couldn't hide his delighted grin. If Dick had sparred with Superman , Ultraman clearly had never sparred with Talon. A quick blow from Ultraman's fist cut short that thought. _Oh no. He's starting to think._

Dick moved faster, thankful that he knew the cave better than Ultraman did. Dick jumped and ran across a bank of computers, then bounced off two sets of filing cabinets, only to find Ultraman waiting for him. Dick recoiled and threw himself back, too late. Ultraman's beefy fist hit him dead center in the sternum and his formerly cracked ribs flared in agony. He gasped and rolled into the cave wall, springing upright with adrenalin-fueled speed. No, Ultraman must have been inside the cave on the other Earth. Dick didn't have home field advantage anymore and Ultraman had taken his measure.

Funny, while Owlman reminded him so much of Batman, Ultraman wasn't at all like Clark. Sure, they looked alike, but there were no similarities in personality at all. The constant rage and arrogance put a completely different cast on this Kryptonian's face. He could work with that.

"So," Dick said, wiping blood from his nose and dancing out of Ultraman's reach. "You never sparred with Talon? Too bad." He grinned, goading him. If he could get this monster to stop thinking, he could still survive. Maybe.

Ultraman grimaced and remembered that he had the power of flight, following Dick's every movement from cabinet to wall to table. _He's playing with me, now. He knows he could kill me in a second. _"So, you don't like Talons?" Dick drawled. "We too cute for you? Or is it Owlman you hate?"

"Talon was always an annoying child with an obnoxious sense of humor. The Joker did me a favor, disposing of him. That boy made Owlman soft, compassionate," Ultraman spat, swiping at his opponent with a broad fist, only just missing him by a hair. "Talon made Owlman _weak_."

His ribs hurting, Dick perched on top of the monitor array panting for breath. The torment of the last few days were starting to affect him and he was tiring too soon. As Ultraman swooped at him, he let himself fall and barely caught himself on a computer console, looking for tiny nooks he could squeeze into. _What are my advantages? I'm fast, I'm smaller than Ultraman and I'm calmer than he is. He's not used to sustained opposition. Use that. _He wondered briefly whether he truly had allies. Would Owlman defend him against Ultraman? He couldn't count on that. Ultraman swiped at him and partially connected, throwing Dick skidding onto the floor. _Focus, Dick!_ he heard Bruce's voice in his head and scrambled away as fast as he could. Not fast enough.

Ultraman's eyes took on an even brighter red gleam. He put on a burst of speed and finally caught up to miserable annoyance of a Talon. Wrapping his fingers around Dick's neck, he slowly began to squeeze.

Dick clawed for air, hearing the whistle in his throat get louder and harsher as the iron fingers closed off all breath. He tried every defensive move that Bruce had ever taught him, but Ultraman just stood like a steel pillar, fingers digging ever deeper. His hunger for air was overwhelming but Dick knew that this was it. He'd laughed at risk all his life and finally lost the bet. He knew that his adoptive father was alive somewhere and he was sad that Bruce would probably blame himself for this. The light dimmed and finally went away. 

* * *

NEVADA, NEAR LAUGHLIN

"Where are we?" Diana asked, looking around at the desert. "I don't recognize this desert."

"We're in the United States," Superman said, picking up an old newspaper held down by a rock. Attached to the newspaper was a small piece of paper with a bat printed on it. "Bruce was here, though. Oh, I see." He handed it to Wonder Woman.

"Nevada? But he also recommends that we don't disclose our presence and not to contact him." Diana finished reading the note. "And he's bought us clothing at the local MallMart. He wants us to take the train?"

"The tickets are good for multiple trains and the security is looser. Don't worry, once we hit Kansas, we'll stop at my parents' house and find out the situation. From there, I can run or fly and carry you the rest of the way." Clark said, opening a large plastic bag. He chuckled. "He even found me another pair of glasses." He pulled out a pair of men's jeans, red and yellow shirt, underwear, socks and sneakers. "There are more bags. Looks like he has clothing for everyone else in the League. He's labeled them. There are enough train passes for everybody. Here's your wardrobe." He handed her a bag.

Diana peered into the sack. "It will do, I suppose." She began removing clothing from the bag. Low slung jeans, red and blue t-shirt, sneakers and, "However did he guess my bra size?" she said, holding up a pink lace bra.

She smiled when Clark turned red. He averted his eyes while Wonder Woman dressed. Superman himself dressed in a blur and soon the two were on foot, ready to catch the next train. 

* * *

HAPPY HARBOR, RHODE ISLAND

WATCHTOWER WRECKAGE

Hidden in the underbrush outside the remains of the Watchtower, Batgirl ran swift fingers over a small tablet in her hand.

"Well?" Batman asked.

"It works," Batgirl, nee Oracle, said with a smile. "I've just shut down all computer systems inside the Watchtower as well as the generators. That should also immobilize Grid and seal the doors as well."

"Good," Batman said, heading for the side of the downed satellite. "And Clark thought I was paranoid because I insisted on adding hidden manual access." He grabbed a handle and pulled open a small door, activating a quick release, then pulled open a hatch. He climbed inside a tube, barely wide enough for his shoulders to fit through. Batgirl followed and closed the hatch behind her. She activated a cold-light tube and in the green glow they climbed up to the next floor.

The door opened easily. Batman dropped to the floor, followed by Batgirl. "We're on the medical level. Control is up one," Batman said. "Search the levels below this one and immobilize anyone you find there. I'll go to control and deal with whoever is there."

"What if it's Ultraman?" Batgirl murmured. "You don't have your kryptonite, do you?"

"I'll improvise," Batman said. "We have to neutralize Grid and make sure that their communications are destroyed. Then we can pick them off one at a time."

Batgirl nodded. "And reactivate our own network on the backup channels. Hopefully they're not compromised. I should go with you to control and deal with Grid, find out what he knows."

Even in the dim light, she saw his heavy frown. "No. Too dangerous."

"We could still go after Nightwing. We know he's in Gotham." Batgirl said quietly.

Batman stilled. "No. The mission has to take priority. From the security videos, we know that Owlman has formed some kind of...connection...with him. I don't think that Dick's in any immediate danger. And besides," he added. "Alfred is at the Manor. He'll watch out for Dick."

"All right, Batman," Barbara said and slipped away into the darkness. Batman watched her go, then straightened his shoulders and made his way to the access tube. He couldn't quiet a nagging feeling that he needed to get to Dick, but that wasn't logical. Batman had to restore communications so that the rest of the League could defeat the Syndicate and restore the moon to its original position. Dick was safe enough where he was.


End file.
